by Kay Bratt
Sadie could just imagine Tom, frantic but meticulous as he worked to spread the word about his lost daughter. Tom would move heaven and earth for Lauren, and he probably hadn’t slept a minute since he’d found out they were out there.
“Okay, let’s get going,” Sam said.
As they traversed the trail back, Sadie contributed to the conversation at different intervals, telling Sam about finding the pine heart and building a shelter, two things he said probably saved their lives. But mostly she let Lauren do the talking. Her mind was on what would happen once she was back home. Somehow the confidence she’d had about moving on had dissipated since they’d gotten lost. She’d thought she was ready to move on, but now it felt different.
She supposed it was the dehydration and fatigue that made her suddenly indecisive.
They stopped every twenty minutes to rest and drink a few more sips of water. Sadie was impatient and eager to get out of the wilderness. But then again, she wasn’t. Everything was about to change.
“Mom, you okay?” Lauren asked, looking back at Sadie. “You’re quiet.”
“I’m fine. Let’s just keep going.”
When she thought her legs would buckle from exhaustion, suddenly they were off the path and back to civilization. A crowd of people was there, and they clapped and cheered as soon as they caught sight of the rescue team. It felt like a dream to Sadie, and she slowed down. Had they just spent three days and two nights completely isolated from everyone and everything? The noise overwhelmed her, and she wanted to cover her ears. Hell, she wanted to run and hide.
First she needed to give proper thanks to all involved. Then her next priority would be a hot shower and a huge cheeseburger and fries. And a tall glass of water.
She saw Tom and stopped. She’d let him and Lauren have their moment.
But Lauren saw Cooper first, and he made a beeline for her, the worry on his face transformed with a big grin that suddenly stretched across it.
And Tom—he was moving too.
But not toward Lauren.
Sadie stood frozen in place as Tom locked eyes with her, never breaking contact as he maneuvered through the crowd, straight for her.
She could feel herself shaking, trembling from head to toe as he approached. She put her hands to her hair, smoothing it down. She straightened her shirt and tightened the filthy sweater around her waist. Then her hands didn’t know where to go. What to do.
Tom looked so good. So clean.
So familiar.
He angled around people, closing the distance between them quickly. Yet he didn’t stop a few feet in front of her like she expected, like was normal to them now. He ignored their usual physical chasm and kept coming, his arms opening wide as he drew close. And without hesitation she fell straight into them. He was warm. And strong. It had been years since she’d been there, but instantly, she felt at home.
The chattering around them muted into a loud buzz as he rocked her back and forth, his tears and relief covering her as together, they wept.
He pulled away and took her face in his hands. His eyes were still flooded with tears, and his lips trembled as he spoke. “You look so beautiful.”
Sadie laughed. She was far from beautiful even in normal circumstances. She could only imagine what she looked like now. But with his words and the intensity of his gaze, she knew one thing for sure.
Their love was not gone. They’d buried it under pain and grief, but what they had was too powerful to extinguish. Tom was hers. And she was his.
Whatever was broken between them could be fixed.
Lauren joined them, and Tom opened his arms wide enough for her to be a part of the circle. Their circle. Their family. A bit broken but not irreparable.
Sadie had another epiphany. She was suddenly thankful for the time she’d spent away from civilization. Time that had taken the fog of sorrow from her mind and let her see clearly. And the owl. It had made her face her grief head-on. As painful as it had been, it felt healing to have finally come to terms with Jacob’s passing.
“My God, you two scared me to death,” Tom said. Then to Sadie, he leaned next to her ear and whispered, his breath like a salve to her soul. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Sadie smiled through her tears. He was right in a way. She had been lost—and had almost lost him too. But now, for the first time in years, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.
EPILOGUE
Sadie inhaled, letting the sweet smell of pine and honeysuckle fill her lungs as she squeezed Tom’s hand. The scent no longer overwhelmed or frightened her. Now, after her ordeal that had become an awakening, it brought her only comfort.
They took the walk slowly. Methodically. The path was wide enough for both of them, a comfort to Sadie because she didn’t want to let go. She hadn’t felt so soothed or loved in more years than she could count, and she thanked God that she’d come to her senses before it was too late.
Tom lifted her hand, looking at the inside of her wrist briefly before kissing it. “I can’t believe you were brave enough for this.”
She laughed. She’d surprised herself too. But the new bond she and Lauren had cemented in the wilderness needed to be remembered. They’d gone together, finding just the right shop, and come out with tiny sunflowers tattooed on their wrists—a reminder to always follow the light. It was also somewhat of a tribute to Kyle, their tattoo-covered wilderness angel, for without him they would’ve spent many more nights out there, and who knew if they’d have made it back alive.
“Come on, lovebirds. Hurry up so we can kayak before it gets dark,” Lauren called from a few feet in front of them. She and Cooper led the way, a couple on the verge of falling in love or possibly already there and keeping it to themselves for now.
“Go on ahead,” Tom replied, then turned to Sadie. “I want you to go slow. It’s going to be a lot to take in all at once.”
“I’m ready, Tom,” Sadie said, smiling softly.
And she was. After her and Lauren’s adventure, Sadie had sought counseling. With her therapist—this time a new one with a name she could handle—she was learning how to move forward from Jacob’s death. She’d never quite be over it, but now she could honestly say that there were more good days than bad, and to her that meant some type of recovery was happening. She was so thankful that Tom was open to rekindling their love for one another, telling her that his commitment had never faltered and that he’d only kept his distance because she’d demonstrated that she needed the space.
Her first night home she and Tom had talked—really talked—for the first time since Jacob’s death. They’d exchanged their testimonies of the guilt they carried, each trying to absolve the other during the confessions. Tears had flowed, and finally they’d agreed that it had been no one’s fault. It had just been a tragic and incomprehensible accident.
Sadie was relieved that Tom hadn’t tried to say it had been Jacob’s time, because not in a million years could anyone make her believe that her son’s time was up at age eleven. That he was supposed to be taken while at the edge of that beautiful, peaceful water, his spirit joyful to be in his happy place.
They’d commiserated again over the mysterious questions: Had Jacob initially put on his life jacket, which had been in the canoe, and if so, why had he taken it off once he was in the water? Had he been hot? Had he been stung by a random bee or other insect? He must’ve at least started with it, they said, agreeing that they’d done it so many times that putting on the vest was an automatic chore before getting into the canoe.
But when he’d flipped the canoe, why hadn’t he reached for the jacket? Or the paddle? Their son had been a good swimmer, and the autopsy hadn’t found any sort of head injury or reason why he shouldn’t have been able to climb back into the boat or get to the shore. The water in the cove wasn’t even that deep—he probably could’ve kept his head up and walked to the shore.
But he hadn’t.
The mysterious why of it all would never
be solved—they knew that—but still, Tom had related for the first time the details of that day. Sadie knew the facts. Had always known them. But she’d never wanted the details. This time, though, she had listened, hoping to piece together the clues and come out with some sort of reason. Some explanation.
Tom sounded older than his years as he spoke, relaying the conclusion of their son’s last day on earth. A few times Sadie wanted to stop him, wanted to reach out and put her fingers to his lips, hushing the words that caused them so much pain. But she refrained. They both needed this. No matter how agonizing the story was, it was necessary.
It had all started when Jacob had begged to go fishing alone while Tom worked on the knots for the rope swing. Tom had made him promise to stay on the bank, as he’d done many times before.
Tom’s face pinched when he related how he’d gone looking for Jacob when he hadn’t answered back on the walkie-talkie. How he’d seen the canoe floating near the shoreline, dislodged from its place on the bank of the cove but horrifyingly empty.
At first, Tom had told himself that Jacob would never get into the canoe without him, without permission. Jacob was a good boy. A solid kid who rarely disobeyed. It was then that Tom had thought he’d missed Jacob on the path, and a quick scan of the water turned up nothing, so he’d gone back the way he’d come, calling for their son.
“Jacob wasn’t back at the camp,” he said. “It was then that I felt it. A shiver of fear went through me, and I ran back to the lake, praying that I was being overly dramatic and that Jacob would be sitting there on the bank, laughing at me with the fishing pole still in his hand.”
Sadie stopped breathing when Tom continued. She knew what was coming and braced herself for the moment that only Tom had had to face until now.
“I saw a flash of light blue on the water, and I froze, remembering he was wearing his Tar Heels shirt. Then I knew. I just knew,” Tom said, his voice ragged from the sobs that threatened to come. “I jumped in and half leaped, half swam to him. I know I was screaming because I choked on the water, but I couldn’t hear anything from the roar in my ears.”
Tom sobbed, and Sadie held him, hot tears streaming down her face. It hurt so much. Not only emotionally but physically—the pain wracking through her body as she remained silent, knowing that after all these years her husband needed to release all of the story, or he’d never recover either.
“I—I turned him over,” he said, his voice breaking again. “I knew when I saw his face that it was too late, but I dragged him back to the shore and tried anyway. I breathed for him for so long. I tried to make his heart beat again. But it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t, Sadie!”
“I know, Tom. I know,” Sadie said through tearful whispers, stroking his head.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he chanted, his words barely recognizable through the sobs. “I never should’ve let him go fishing alone.”
Sadie had thought the night she’d learned of Jacob’s death was the longest of her life. And then the first night she’d kept Lauren awake in Yosemite was a runner-up. But she was wrong. This night she and Tom came back together and this time really shared their pain of losing their precious son, finally releasing all the guilt and anguish, was the longest. Hands down and no questions asked. After nothing more could be said, they finally fell asleep and woke wrapped in each other’s arms for the first time in many years. Together again as one, no longer two aching and lonely souls. They’d offered forgiveness, not only to each other but also to themselves.
Now they were free.
Then over coffee they held hands, and he told her his secret.
He’d kept the lake property, unable to part with the land that Jacob had loved so fiercely. All those times she’d pushed him away in her grief, he’d gone there. He told her that she wouldn’t recognize it, that over the years when he’d said he was going camping or owling, he’d gone there, feeling Jacob with him as he worked. Their son’s spirit giving him the guidance and energy to keep going.
“I know you may never want to see it,” he said. “But I couldn’t let it go.”
But he was wrong. She was ready.
And now here they were.
They walked round the bend, and Sadie was struck silent. She froze, her eyes refusing to believe what they were seeing.
No longer was the property the untamed, wild land she remembered pitching a tent on. There in front of her was the most beautiful, cozy log cabin she had ever seen. It was framed in the trees and could have been taken straight from the pages of a storybook. Next to the small stoop that served as a porch, there were racks of trellises, pink and yellow roses climbing to the top in a kaleidoscope of pastels.
Tom had made a flat cobblestone pathway to the door, and he led her up to it, but not before Sadie saw the treehouse that sat high in a tree next to the cabin. From it hung a rope swing, huge knots tied every few feet until it stopped at the tire tied at the bottom. Slabs of wood nailed to the trunk of the tree made a ladder leading up to the house.
She paused to study it.
“Jacob helped me build the structure,” Tom said. “We’d just finished the steps that day and were going to put the swing up that afternoon. It took me a year to finish it, but I felt like that’s what he would’ve wanted.”
She nodded, unable to speak.
Lauren opened the front door of the cabin and poked her head out.
“Come on, Mom,” she said, her wide smile a contradiction to the feelings that were gripping Sadie.
Tom squeezed her hand, and they moved up the path together until they were at the threshold, and Lauren stepped back, allowing them to enter.
The first thing that hit Sadie was the scent of pine that lined the walls. It smelled so fresh and clean, as though he’d brought the outdoors in and doused every inch of the inside of the house with it.
She looked around, taking in all that Tom had done. Without her.
It was mostly one big room, though she saw two doors on the far wall that led somewhere. A bathroom, she supposed. And maybe a storage room. But the main room was an open living room and kitchen, with an area at the back set up with an old iron bed, a tattered and faded quilt across it.
“Your grandmother’s quilt?” she asked, and Tom nodded.
Sadie hadn’t missed it from the linen closet. Now it looked proud in its new place of honor, and she felt a flash of guilt that they’d never brought it out before, another memory stuffed away in the dark. She was glad he’d taken it and found a way to display it, a token of his love for the woman who’d helped raise him.
There were other mementos around the room too. On a wooden shelf attached to the wall, she saw an old lantern she and Tom had found at a flea market on a day they’d battled the rain long ago, laughing as they’d gone from place to place. They’d had so much fun on those weekends, digging through junk to find treasures they’d one day bring to the cabin they’d dreamed of.
In front of the footboard of the bed, Sadie saw Tom’s slippers. The sheepskin ones that Lauren had bought him. She flushed with shame remembering looking for them and deciding their absence sealed her suspicions. But that was then, and this was now. Tom had never strayed, and she hated that she’d even considered he would do such a thing.
She shrugged it off, forcing herself to smile.
Beside the lantern sat an abandoned hornet’s nest that Jacob had found. He’d been fascinated by it, bringing it home from the lake and making up stories about the winged creatures who’d lived in it and why they’d gone. It used to sit on the nightstand next to Jacob’s bed, not really fitting in with the light-blue team bedding or the jars of marbles, just one more thing in his eclectic collection.
Sadie was astonished. The cabin was stunning. Not in a fancy sort of way. More in a comforting, cozy way that made her want to curl up on the battered couch under a blanket and with her hand wrapped around a cup of hot tea.
Across from the couch, Cooper sat in a worn leather recliner, looking at hi
s phone, probably uncomfortable to be a part of such a solemn moment. He knew that this day was monumental. Lauren said that after their rescue, she’d told him everything. Sadie felt a rush of pity for him and realized that she liked him more than she’d thought. For Lauren, she’d pushed aside her fear that he would take her daughter away from her. Now she knew that no one could do that. Their mother-daughter bond was stronger than ever.
Her eyes lit on the floors, hardwood with colorful braided rugs scattered here and there. Somehow she knew that Tom had probably laid every piece himself, doing penance there on his knees as he hammered the boards into place.
“Your mom made the rugs,” he said, then smiled sheepishly. “I had to tell her I was planning a man cave.”
Sadie shook her head, amazed that even her mother had had a small part of making the cabin feel like home.
“She’s excited about coming on Thanksgiving,” Lauren said.
Sadie was eager to have her too. They’d somehow healed the chasm between them and talked more than ever now. Past transgressions had been forgiven, and Sadie was working on forgetting them too. Everyone deserved a second chance.
Karma and all that, of course.
She saw a small fire going in the fireplace and noticed the stack of wood beside it. Under the metal rack that held Tom’s grandfather’s shotguns, a painting graced the mantle, a rugged piece depicting a gnarled old tree shadowing a pasture of high green grass waving in the wind. A scene that felt peaceful and comforting. She wondered where Tom had bought it and marveled over his good taste.
In the kitchen area, Sadie smiled at the pot rack that hung over a small island, cast iron skillets dangling from steel hooks. Had Tom cooked for himself, she wondered, feeling guilty at the isolation that he’d probably felt. But also amazed that he’d led an entirely separate life in a place she’d never known existed until now.